


Deaths, Big and Small

by slotumn



Series: ClauLysi Kinkwhenever [29]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Character Study, Dissociation, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fear of Death, Fuck Or Die, Marathon Sex, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Quickies, it's somehow both, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slotumn/pseuds/slotumn
Summary: Under normal circumstances, she supposed this could have been exciting-- trying to desperately fuck each other outdoors, in the middle of a battle, with torn clothes-- but the only things coursing through her mind at the moment was fear and panic.A.K.A. LysiClaude fuck or die with a focus on the "or die" because Lysithea.
Relationships: Lysithea von Ordelia/Claude von Riegan
Series: ClauLysi Kinkwhenever [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644289
Kudos: 8





	Deaths, Big and Small

When the spell hit, her body knew something was wrong before her brain did.

"Claude!"

The first person she spotted was him-- a silver lining, she supposed, since there weren't anyone else she'd willingly do this with. She ran off the battlefield, and he trailed close behind, leaving his wyvern to one of the men in his battalion, as it would surely get the enemy's attention if such an identifiable mount flew off. Good thinking on his part-- she didn't want to put the others' lives at jeopardy along with hers.

"Poison? Curse?" he asked, perceptive as ever, once they were amongst some trees and bushes.

"Of sorts," she frantically tore the long skirt of her Gremory uniform with a blade, "it-- starts at the reproductive system and courses through the whole body--"

Whatever shock he felt at seeing her suddenly rip her underwear off was quickly replaced with horror, as she revealed the dark veins crawling out from the center of her lower stomach, between the pubic bones-- right over her womb.

"There's only one way to get it out," she reached toward his waistband-- but he seemed to have gotten the memo and moved ahead, undoing his pants, throwing the gloves onto the ground, and jerking himself hard as fast as possible with one hand while using the other to reach between her legs and rub her clit. 

Under normal circumstances, she supposed this could have been exciting-- trying to desperately fuck each other outdoors, in the middle of a battle, with torn clothes-- but the only things coursing through her mind at the moment was fear and panic, even as her body released slick in response to Claude's nimble, dexterous fingers that knew her most sensitive parts all too well.

What would happen to her parents, what would the Empire do to them if she died here? What would happen to her friends? What would happen to him? What would death be like? Was she just going to simply stop existing, stop being? What did nothing feel like? 

Those were the dreads and questions that she always carried in the back of her mind-- an inevitable part of being cursed to a short lifespan. But sometimes, they'd crawl out and force her to face them while dropping heavy metal weights in her chest, usually during nights when her mind was too tired and scattered to keep them locked away. 

Now, the pangs were bigger, louder, heavier, closer than ever as the dread ran wild and took over, with no way to rein them back in-- the only thing that her mind could manage was desperately praying that she didn't want to fade away, she couldn't, not now.

"Arms around my neck," Claude instructed, voice authoritative but calm. "Deep breaths. We'll get through this, okay?"

Her body followed the commands, as if hypnotized. Her legs were hoisted up by his arms around his waist, and despite how close they were, clinging onto each other for life as he began thrusting hard and fast, it didn't feel real. She still felt all the sensations, physically-- body heat, panting, her hole being ravaged into orgasm-- but her mind was drifting off somewhere else.

Perhaps this was what dying felt like, she thought, vaguely registering Claude's voice in the corner.

"Lysithea, Lys, come back for a moment," he breathed, pulling his limp cock out as semen dribbled out of her and onto the ground. "How can we tell if it's, out of the system or whatever?"

"The mark-- it has to fade," she replied, voice hazy and drowsy.

A quick glance downwards showed that the dark things crawling across her skin had only gotten marginally lighter-- or was that because it spread out?

"Gods dammit," he hissed, putting her down and throwing his jacket on the ground before pushing her to lay on it, "who came up with this curse, anyway?!"

A small laugh came out of her mouth, despite herself. Who, indeed. 

(The answer was, abominations who wanted to humiliate their foes in all possible ways, like the bastards who experimented on her and her family.)

Claude gritted his teeth and began pumping himself again. The strokes were too rough and fast to be pleasurable regularly, and in the sensitive post-orgasmic state, it must have been downright painful to get hard again so soon. But this was about survival, not pleasure-- and he was never the type to let his comrades die, if he could help it. 

Somewhere between the panic and intrusive, unstoppable thoughts about how she was going to die ( _die die die oh gods I'm dying_ ), she felt a small spring of unusually straightforward gratefulness towards him.

He began hammering into her again, gripping onto waist and eyes fixed on her lower stomach. Her head felt light (who knew if it was from the curse or the panic or both), and soon, her mind wandered to places like, when she died, could she see her brothers and sisters and cousins again? Or would she have to face everyone she killed on the battlefield first?

"No, you're staying here," Claude leaned forward and muttered, "with me."

"Right..."

Had she said that out loud?

She didn't know. 

Didn't care. 

The kiss on her lips was warm and firm and the only thing that felt real at the moment, so she decided to concentrate on that instead.

\---

"Hey. How are you doing?"

Part of her expected to not wake up again after passing out in the middle of sex, but when her eyes opened again, she saw Claude sitting next to her bed, expression as neutral as ever.

"...A little sore, but otherwise fine."

Claude raised an eyebrow before explaining,

"It's gone now. One of the medics confirmed that you were alright. And don't worry, we won the battle, nobody knows we ran off in the middle to do that."

She nodded, head still too fuzzy to start overthinking like she usually did. 

"Consider sitting out on the next mission, if you're too tired."

"Absolutely not."

A sigh was the only response she got, the type that approximately translated to, "I'd try to argue against, that but I know you won't listen."

She realized that he must be awfully tired, too-- who knew how many more rounds he had to go after she passed out to make the curse wear off. Hell, she didn't know how many rounds he went before that-- the whole ordeal already felt distant, as if she watched it far away from a third person perspective instead of experiencing it firsthand.

Remembering something important upon recounting the event, she looked at him and cleared her throat.

"Claude?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

He finally leaned in to hug her, as he always did after they brushed shoulders with death. 

**Author's Note:**

> [LysiClaude week twitter](https://twitter.com/LysiClaudeWeek?s=20)  
>   
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/slotumn?s=09)  
>   
> The subjects of death and sex go together really well imo, especially when it comes to these two.


End file.
